


strip poker night

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Amis have Strip Poker Night.  Enjolras and Grantaire are very bad at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strip poker night

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://nightvaleprivatelibrary.tumblr.com/post/58294596722/les-amis-strip-poker-night-featuring-a-blushing) tumblr prompt.

Strip Poker Night, Enjolras thinks, was a terrible, terrible idea.

He’s pretty certain, actually, that Eponine and Cosette are doing some kind of sleight of hand with the deck when they deal, because the only people who wind up shedding clothes when they deal are Enjolras and Grantaire, and there is no way that that is purely luck.

He and Grantaire are also sitting next to each other, and Enjolras keeps wishing for blinders, like the ones you put on horses, because five card stud becomes much more difficult when he has to keep not looking at the increasingly more naked man beside him. And he can’t look at him because if he gets an erection in the middle of a poker game because of Grantaire, he is going to lock himself in Courfeyrac’s bedroom until the world ends and make online activism his domain.

He and Grantaire are down to their underwear now, and are the  _only ones_  that are quite that naked. And Enjolras is sure that the circle of people gets tighter every time someone shifts to take off an article of clothing.

Then, when Grantaire throws down his final hand triumphantly — two eights and three queens, the best in the circle — his hand brushes against Enjolras’s bare knee.

The noise Enjolras makes cannot be transcribed for posterity, but suffice to say that Courfeyrac starts laughing hysterically as Enjolras jumps to his feet, hisses, “I will spill coffee on  _everything you love_ " at Courfeyrac, and rushes for the man’s bedroom.

Once inside, he locks it and slides down to the floor, whimpering.

"IF YOU SPILL COFFEE ON MARIUS YOU’RE DEAD," yell Cosette and Courfeyrac in unison. There is a moment of silence in which Enjolras imagines the two of them looking at each other in surprise.

Then there is some muffled discussion, and footsteps down the hall. “Enjolras?”

It’s Grantaire. His voice sounds — husky. Huskier than usual, and this is really, really not the time to be turned on my Grantaire’s voice, it really isn’t.

"Please leave me alone to die of humiliation. I apologize if I made you in any way uncomfortable."

"Leave you alone to — uncomfortable —" Grantaire sounds somewhat lost.

Enjolras curls into a tighter ball, knees pulled up and his face buried in them. He’s so fucked, so very, very, very fucked. If he says anything else he knows it’ll come out as either a hysterical whine or an outright moan.

"Are you…" Now Grantaire sounds breathy, like he’s surprised. "Oh God. Oh god, are you."

Enjolras curls in even tighter, trying and failing miserably to kill his erection. “Am I what?” he manages, voice a little hoarse. Because Grantaire sounds like — like —

"Oh God," Grantaire repeats, and there’s a soft, muffled thunk against the door. "Are you hard?"

He can’t help the punched out noise he makes, erection getting even more unmanageable. He has no idea what to do, what to say, because how does he respond when Grantaire sounds like  _this?_

"Please let me in," Grantaire says, voice weak.

Enjolras stands. He’s shaking and confused and oh god, so fucking hard, but he unlocks the door and lets Grantaire in.

Grantaire is flushed from the roots of his hair to his collarbones, and his pupils are dilated and his mouth hanging open, and, when Enjolras dares to look, his boxers are  _obscenely_  tented.

The door closes behind him almost on accident, but when it does, it’s just them, alone, staring at each other, and Enjolras wants to sink to his knees and push Grantaire against the wall and blow him, right here, right now, because holy shit, Grantaire is hard for  _him_  and how else is he supposed to handle that?

Grantaire swallows. “You — you —”

"Please let me blow you," Enjolras says, a little strangled.

"Oh fuck, fuck, you can’t just  _say things like that,_ " Grantaire says, and he moans, and Enjolras thinks he could spend his whole fucking life listening to that moan over and over again.

He takes a step closer, crowding Grantaire a little. “You have no idea how bad it was, sitting next to you and your fucking mostly naked body,” he says, rushing and stumbling over the words just a little. “And then — and then —”

Grantaire cuts him off by pulling him close and kissing the everliving fuck out of him. Enjolras can’t do much more than cling and whimper a little and let his mouth fall open. And try not to come before he can even get his boxers off.

They’re both breathing heavy when Grantaire pulls back enough to do so, and Grantaire is wild eyed and staring, one hand curled against the back of Enjolras’s neck and the other at his hip.

"Please please please let me blow you," Enjolras whispers.

"Not here, fuck, we’re in Marius and Courf’s fucking apartment, shit, we need a bed, oh fuck," Grantaire sounds like he’s on the very edge of falling apart, and he pulls away a little to yell through the door: "We’re leaving! Somebody bring us our shit!"

The cheer that rises up in response probably should not have surprised them as much as it did.

Later, Enjolras won’t be able to remember the details of how they get to Grantaire and Jehan’s apartment, but they do, and he presses Grantaire against the door as soon as they’re inside, kissing him again and still, still hard in his jeans. “I need to blow you,” he mumbles against Grantaire’s mouth, hands gripping Grantaire’s belt. “I need to blow you  _right fucking now_.”

Grantaire moans and there is a flurry of activity before Enjolras can curl his hand around the base of Grantaire’s cock and drop to his knees.

It’s over almost too quickly, but Enjolras doesn’t care because  _shit_ , he’s just made Grantaire  _come_  and he could probably die a happy man just from that alone. He swallows, and there’s a little bit of come on his cheek and Enjolras stands up on shaky legs to kiss Grantaire again.

Grantaire mumbles obscenities and half-words and Enjolras’s name and Enjolras could probably come just from this, but Grantaire’s hands are at his belt now and he’s asking: “Oh god, can I, can I?”

"Yes," Enjolras says emphatically, voice cracking.

Grantaire gets a hand around Enjolras’s cock and Enjolras moans, louder than he’s ever done before, bucking into Grantaire’s hand, his own planted against the door on either side of Grantaire’s head. Grantaire is staring at his face as he jacks him off, stares at him like he’s something holy, and Enjolras whimpers and leans his forehead against Grantaire’s because oh holy god Grantaire, Grantaire has feelings for him doesn’t he, and Enjolras could probably cry because this might actually work out and he wants it to, he wants it to so badly.

His hips snap just once more into Grantaire’s hand and he comes, shuddering and whining, and he kisses Grantaire, kisses him to try and articulate everything he’s feeling because otherwise he’ll explode with it. He buries his hands in Grantaire’s curls and he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until he hasn’t got anymore air.

"Enjolras," Grantaire says, quiet and breathless, and Enjolras swallows. " _Enjolras_.”

"Can I stay the night?"  _Can I stay forever?_

"Please," Grantaire says.

So Enjolras does.


End file.
